You would hate me for it
by The Boeshane Babe
Summary: Captain John Hart reflects on being caught in the time loop with Jack


**You would hate me for it**

John Hart wandered out of the bathroom – bath still full of bubbles, towel tossed carelessly on the floor – and ambled towards the window. On the way he caught a look at himself in the mirror-like closet door. He smiled quietly to himself – naked except for his Agency wrist strap he was lean and toned within an inch of his life; he looked pretty good, looked pretty irresistible he reckoned. With a self-satisfied sigh he leaned by the window and gazed out into space. There was nothing to see that hadn't been the same as the day before, the week before, the month before…

John folded his arms and sighed. As a Time Agent this seemed pretty boring. He'd always been a bit of a renegade and the commander had teamed him up with Jack for that very reason, to get him to behave a bit and toe the line. Now? – Well, wasn't being a Time Agent supposed to be more exciting than this? John missed haring away from missions by the seat of his pants, just getting away with his life; always the excitement, always the buzz of adrenaline like nothing else. He supposed it was like an addiction of sorts….and he had plenty of those.

All the same for someone caught in a time loop or time vortex or whatever other fancy name you wanted to call it, he had comfort if not outright luxury around him. This wasn't exactly like being thrown in a dirty prison cell for the duration. Ok, so it was damn boring but there was food and drink and even plenty of booze to hand. Talking of which….John crossed to the far side of the room, opened a cupboard and extracted a bottle of Alarian vodka. Alarian, only the best, John thought as he pulled off the top and took a massive slug. Oh yes, that hit the spot. He almost shook his head deliriously as the liquid slipped down his throat.

As he went to resume his previous position by the window, John glanced at the bed at his Time Agent partner sprawled naked and belly down fast asleep. Jack was always stretching out, taking up space, like now with a leg at each corner of the bed like a starfish. John smirked – he would leave him be for now but how often did Jack sprawl out like that and John would shove him on the floor to make his point? Oh that had caused some fights…

John stopped where he was, continuing to gaze upon the body of his lover and best friend. A silk sheet barely covered Jack's frame and outlined every muscle. Fascinating. John slugged back more vodka. He never got tired of looking at Jack - - stunning face, amazing body – it was a bit like looking at a work of art. He got to touch too…and he wasn't averse to anyone else touching Jack either….as long as he was included. Mind you they'd both had occasional fits of jealousy before now which usually ended in knock-down fights. Well, John mused, they didn't _end_ in knock-down fights…that was more like foreplay…

More than anyone Jack seemed to understand him – knew how he was just extreme, off the wall, uncontained – and most times he'd let him be. Just occasionally John was aware of Jack reining in his behaviour, but he reckoned he needed a slap now and then. John had never met anyone who could actually more or less keep up with his hedonistic lifestyle like Jack could, would almost challenge him if he looked to weaken. But for all the fights, mock challenges and standing up to each other, John felt that somehow they were psychic twins. Sometimes John knew he showed upset in anger and Jack would just let him rage before hugging him. On missions no words were needed, knowing what a look meant, a slight inclination of the head, a twitch of the lips. There were times when John woke suddenly from a bad dream but Jack was there to calm him and vice versa. They fitted each other perfectly.

John almost absent-mindedly took another hit of vodka, while continuing to stare at a sleeping Jack. We know each other so well…but have you any idea how addicted to you I am? – You're injected into my vein and I can't do without you, I _need_ you. So often I've wanted to tell you that I love you…but I daren't. Do you know though? - Do my eyes give the game away? – You see beyond that cocky sneering face of mine don't you….

John put the bottle down and crawled up the bed, almost crawling up Jack in the process. He bent his head down to gently kiss the dimple in the small of Jack's back, which he knew was a sensitive spot. Sure enough Jack woke slightly.

"John? Wha' ya doin'?" Jack mumbled into his pillow.

"Nothing," John whispered, lying down beside him, "Nothing baby. Go to sleep."

Aware of John's presence, Jack turned over and tucked himself against him and slung an arm across his chest. John smiled at Jack's sleepy face and smoothed down some hair that was sticking up at a tangent, brushed it away from his face. Always you, always there laughing with me, there saving my ass from danger, always beside me…

John kissed Jack's forehead and gave another sigh. How could I tell you? You would hate me for it. I can never, ever let you know….know that the time loop isn't holding us here anymore…I am. I've kept the secret for weeks now, engineered it so that you don't find out. I love you Jack….and I'm not going to let you go…not just yet anyway…


End file.
